


whiz(bang!)

by ventilation



Category: Justice League vs. Teen Titans (2016), Reign of the Supermen (2019), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (2017)
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read, Scrabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventilation/pseuds/ventilation
Summary: conner and raven play scrabble
Relationships: Kon-El | Conner Kent & Raven, Kon-El | Conner Kent/Raven
Kudos: 11





	whiz(bang!)

“Re-match,” she says before he can even lift himself up from the chair. There’s a pause that follows soon after, the air becoming still. It’s filled with the electric tension of hesitation and surprise, and Raven glances up when she feels the full strength of his gaze directed at her. His face reflects his uncertainty and startelement — the small furrowing of his eyebrows and the imperceptible refocusing of his eyes, which one could assume, had widened momentarily from her words.

Raven repeats herself with a slight inclination of her head — calmly, as though she hasn't just read him in the quick second, “Re-match.”

This time his reaction is familiar and the electricity in the air calms down when he lets out a staccato of a laugh. It’s breathy and short, something she’s heard from him before, but can’t quite put a finger when. “I lost, y’know,” Conner tells her as he stands up, the plush of the chair slowly inflating from the disappearance of his weight. “I don’t think it’d be fun to play another round knowing you’ll win.”

A rather teasing yet veiled comment — if it is meant to hide his half-praise towards her or if it is to imply that he’s no good as her Scrabble opponent because their knowledge with words do not match, she’s not sure, though the possibility of it being a self-deprecating joke makes her raise an eyebrow at him.

“No, you could’ve won, and we both know it.”

He flinches visibly, and Raven suddenly feels guilty. It’s justifiable, albeit surprising, of him to respond so adversely from being called out in his lie, and she couldn’t help the gnawing thing in her gut; the heavy lead in her system that’s making it increasingly harder to breathe. 

Perhaps it is better to leave it alone — no, it  _ is _ better to leave it alone. It’s not any of her business after all.

She sucks in a breath and smiles at his fleeting figure, letting him leave as she picks up the tiles on the board, fixing up the table to look as though the past hour or so hadn’t existed.

Except, of course, she doesn’t do any of that — not at all, because though she may be guilty, she is curious as well, and like the bird bearing her namesake clutching at a sparkling treasure, Raven doesn’t want to just resign herself and let go of such a …  _ wonderful _ curiosity, she supposes. It is most definitely selfish of her to pry, but she’s his friend, and if she’s learned anything from hers, it’s that friends are more likely to make it their business to be nosy, especially if it’s out of concern.

And, Raven is worried.

“You knew how to play,” she starts, smiling when he stops in his tracks. “Or, at least, picked up on it rather quickly.” Of course, it hadn’t just been that, because knowing the rules and general how-to’s of the game wouldn’t make one good. And, Conner had been  _ better _ than good. Despite the rough calls on a few turns, especially on his early tries, he’d been a notable opponent who had been able to make her frantic at least once. He would take advantage of the premium squares and hadn’t once touched the dictionary laid out by their sides for use, despite the more than several occasions she had placed down words that aren’t quite well-known or may not further verification.

An example:  _ whizbang  _ displayed at the north east of the board, across.

She’d used that against Garfield before, in the rare (or rather only) time he’d taken her offer to play. He had scrunched his face in confusion and claimed that it’s a made-up word — “because what does that even mean?  _ Whiz _ and then  _ bang? _ Really? That’s not a real word. Come on, Raven, what do you take me for?” — before digging through the several dictionaries and verifying with Siri to make sure it’s real, because  _ whizbang? _

To be fair, it is a rather amusing word that sounded like it’s made up, but then again, words  _ are _ made up, a point that she had risen after he’d settled down and accepted that the word does exist.

For Conner, he hadn’t reacted. Correction: he  _ did,  _ with a smile, before placing  _ anvil _ down using the  _ n _ in  _ whizbang.  _ He may have heard Garfield mention the story before or maybe he’d known the word beforehand, but even setting aside the tameness of his reaction for those reasons, it’s rather a surprise to just watch him throughout the game contemplating his next move without once looking a tiny bit bewildered.

Conner is  _ good:  _ techniques, rules, words. He c _ ould have _ won.

“But, I lost in the end anyway, right?” he says anyway, and she takes his tile tray.

“Only because you didn’t want to use the Z and the Q tiles you had and — don’t tell me you didn’t have a chance,” she raises a hand when he looks ready to argue her point. “Even when it was the best chance for you to, you passed on purpose to have me block the words that you could use.”

Her fingers slide across the board, the tips of her nails hovering over her last word:  _ erudite. _ Of course he wouldn’t be able to make a play anymore after that, with the way most of their words were placed so near to each other and how the tiles forming  _ erudite _ had blocked all possible spaces he could use to drop Q and Z. It’s strange, almost, how they had managed to play for so long despite doing so in a rather congested and crowded layout, but the way he shifts his weight on one foot to the other and is pointedly looking at anything and everything but her is stranger.

Conner likes to make eye contact, no matter how awkward it is to the other person or to himself. Definitely out of the ordinary, and she feels her throat constrict at the smallness of his form.

But, she swallows the second wave of guilt, stomping it down until all that’s left is but a twinge. “You could have won,” Raven pauses, eyes flickering from him, to the board, and to the pieces of paper that bear their scores. “But, you didn’t want to, did you?”

“No.”

She looks back at him again. “Why?”

“I, uhh.” He’s reluctant, naturally, but there’s a want to let out, to converse — to  _ explain _ singing in the air, in the space between them. So, she waits patiently, watching with attentive eyes as he combs his fingers through his hair, chews on his lip and twiddle his thumbs. Raven waits, because — it’s not her business at all, but like  _ hell _ if she doesn’t at least  _ try. _

Oh Azar, she’s becoming like Donna and Gar, isn’t she?  _ Oh, Azar, no. _

Raven doesn’t have to wait long though nor does she need to wallow at the fact that the two had rubbed off on her any longer, before Conner lets out a sigh, posture slumping. It screams of resignation. And, then he starts,

“I’m supposed to be smart, you know? Created to be, using Lex Luthor’s “intellect.”” He air quotes the latter word, rolling his eyes with so much derision that it practically seems as though he’s trying to find out what the inside of his head is like.

Raven knows of his complex with Luthor, as it’s common knowledge within the Tower. It hadn’t been said outright, but the rare times the man had visited the Titans had been enough for them to realise how highly Conner views the man — if it’s positively or negatively viewed, no one knows for certain. But, what Raven does know is that the expression on Conner’s face right now does not fit him at all.

“I just … I didn’t think it would be fair to win by something that’s not  _ me, _ I guess?” He continues, the derision clearly absents now, and Raven doesn’t know what’s worse: the angry Conner or the empty Conner. Another tug of guilt, but no. She’s already said too much —  _ he’s _ already said too much, and to stop this now while he’s bearing such personal thoughts to her? That would hurt him a lot more, and so she shakes away the feeling of regret and mulls over his words.

He’s not lying, per se, but it’s not all truths either. After all, isn’t he Superman too? And, Conner seems to be fine with utilising Superman’s abilities for his own advantage and to  _ win _ — a contradiction or a hypocrisy? Or, maybe something else?

Raven thinks of dwelling longer, but just the thought of Conner being a hypocrite is laughable. He is frivolous and perhaps a tad bit pretentious and overconfident at times, but he is no hypocrite.

“Conner, you’re,” she taps a finger against her lips, humming as she contemplates on her following words. “Just because you had their exact attributes doesn’t mean they would  _ stay _ that way. A sheet of paper doesn’t  _ just _ stay a sheet of paper if it’s folded into a swan origami, does it? Everything you have now is yours. From your Kryptonian half to your Luthor…  _ —ian _ smarts —  _ Conner. Kent.” _

She hopes he could understand what she’s trying to say because halfway it feels like she’s just rambling, however it doesn’t appear as though he’s confused. There’s another pregnant pause as he ponders over what she had just told him, and Raven waits quietly, thrumming her fingers against a knee.

Then: “But, isn’t it unfair?”

And. And,  _ well. _

Half of her wants to level him with an incredulous stare at the question, but sighs fondly instead. “Conner,” Raven tells him, “We’re a bunch of superheroes living in a superhero building and living superhero lives. We  _ have _ to be unfair to win at the end of the day.” Shrugging, she smirks, “And, besides, I don’t think it’s unfair to use it against me in a game of Scrabble.”

Conner blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah, well, too bad I can’t have that rematch with you, huh?”

He blinks again. “Wh— I—”

“But, beating you once is enough, I guess,” she sings, attempting to channel her inner Beast Boy to try and lighten the somber mood. Admittedly, the dry tone of her voice makes it difficult to tell if she’s singing or not, but with his heightened auditory senses, Raven wouldn’t be surprised if he’d heard the minut inflections and lilting of her teasing words.

She couldn’t help but be apprehensive though, because even if she is a friend, this might be too much? Damn it. Raven isn’t really any good with this, and she has to suppress the want to reach out to him with her powers, because she wants to help, but not at the cost of having him be uncomfortable with—

“I’m —” he says so sharply and so suddenly that her thoughts just  _ stop _ . “That doesn’t — I don’t even —!” Conner fumbles with his response, but he gives up halfway, most likely when he notices her staring eyes. (She composes herself quickly afterwards, wiping away any emotion that’s not, well, emotionless.) He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated sigh, tapping one foot six times — not that she had counted. When he glances up again with an exasperated look to match the tired smile gracing his face, he relents, “One match, and that’s it.”

“One match,” she nods, the corner of her mouth twitching at the amusing sight of what is normally a (self-assured and optimistic) boy almost dragging his feet as he walks and plopping himself back on the couch in front of her glumly.

It’s feigned and rather exaggerated, but there are still spikes of genuine disgruntlement and frustration mingling with the teasing and lighter emotions bouncing off him.

His lips tremble, amusement evident in the light of his eyes.“One match.”

They collect the tiles back into its pouch.

“ _ Only _ because I’m bored and I suck at video games,” Conner adds quickly, his lips pursed in a pout. “And, definitely not because of whatever reverse psych crap you did back there.”

It’s not really reverse psychology (or maybe it is and she’s not sure of what’s what anymore?), but she bites back from commenting with a small smile, tying the string of the bag securely. Raven nods, all seriousness, “Of course.”

The tiles rattle as she shakes the pouch.

He hums a whimsical tune, some sort of pop song that has probably been playing in radio stations for a while now. But, like lightning though, he sits up properly, his shoulders set high and the small twinkle of amusement in the blue of his eyes now bright with mischief. It’s literally screaming  _ “I have a good idea,” _ and though it’s most likely a harmless thought, she leans farther back into her seat. You know, just in case.

“That’s why when I win, you’d have to go on a date with me.”

_ Tick. Tick. Ti— _ oh. Raven exhales with a chuckle. See? Totally harmless.  _ “When? _ I think the word you’re looking for is  _ if. _ ”

“Nope, pretty sure it’s when,” he corrects her.

Raven responds, “Well, then, I guess I have no choice but to play seriously then, huh?”

“Sure,” Conner grins, smug, “Won’t change the fact that I’ll be winning though, babe.” There’s a moment where he freezes, the wide smile on his staying longer than it should have, before the moment is gone and Conner Kent is back from whatever emotional revelation he’d gotten at the moment. (Raven didn’t mean to feel his emotions, but in her defence, the sharp burst of embarrassment and mortification from his side had been rather aggressive that even her mental barriers were unable to stop them from reaching her, so.) He coughs into a fist, and she swears the pinkish colour dusting his cheeks goes well with the blue of his cozy sweater, “This match. This  _ one _ match.”

Raven nods. “One match.”

\--

It is not just one match, and Raven chuckles at his dejected lump of a body after what seems to be the fourth — fifth? Raven had lost count — game.

Another rematch, he had said after he’d lost the first rematch, which had turned into another rematch and another rematch and so forth. And, each time, Raven had won, and each time, she would just shrug and say, “You  _ could have _ won is not the same as  _ would have,” _ — and, each time, it would result in him throwing a pretend outburst every time.

(Which may not have been a good and friendly move, but really, she couldn’t help it. It was just fun to ruffle his feathers and see him react.

His mock tantrums at one point had been rather loud that a few of their teammates had gone to check in on them to see if everything was fine, but she hadn’t really thought much of them as much as she had realised that the prodding and the prying had worked.)

He doesn’t win this last match either, but as she looks at the Scrabble board and at the scores listed on their scoresheet, Raven knows it wouldn’t be too long before he would eventually beat her.

Not that she’d let him of course, and Raven shrugs at his glare, “As I said,  _ could’ve  _ isn’t the same  _ would’ve. _ ”

“I swear I’ll beat you next time, Rae-Rae …”

“Counting on that then, Kon-Kon.”

(Still, she couldn’t help the fluttering in her chest at the idea. And, well,  _ babe _ sounds rather …  _ pleasant _ to hear, if she’s being honest.)

\--


End file.
